


late

by squidmemesinc



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Kissing, M/M, early-mid season 4 if i had to choose, i have no idea if this counts as fluff but it feels more pleasant than what i usually write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 03:40:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20090665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squidmemesinc/pseuds/squidmemesinc
Summary: “We’ll both be late, you forget.”Merlin sighs. “You’re a knight, it’s different.”Gwaine straightens up and Merlin snaps out of it, realizing too late that his words might be taken as genuine protest. But Gwaine just leans in close. “I’ll make it worth your while. And, I’ll be so late, it’ll seem you were early.”





	late

**Author's Note:**

> I started watching this again like 2 months ago while I was sewing because it didn't require much attention and now I've finally finished the series and I can't believe I have such Strong Opinions about So Many Things. 
> 
> I told my friends that even if you don't watch Merlin, all you need to know is that Gwaine is the best and Uther is always wrong, and I will stand by that.
> 
> This ship is severely underrepresented, so this is my contribution.

The nice thing about working in the castle (and also about having some preconceived destiny that so frequently requires sneaking around in it and getting up to whatever misdeeds) is that Merlin is now wholly familiar with any little unused nook or cranny built into the structure that can’t be seen or heard from commonly travelled hallways. He sometimes wonders if Arthur ever explored as much as a child, but perhaps he had everything he could ever care to need in his spacious chambers, or otherwise available to him by means of any of the other privileges a Prince is entitled to. There was not much need for him to go looking for anything else.

If he knew all the little spaces in the castle that one person (or two people, standing quite a bit closer together than any acquaintances may) could tuck away in, he might have some serious concerns about security. 

Given Merlin’s willingness to take care of that, he doesn’t bother to point them out. Not to Arthur, anyway. Besides, if security were a concern, the king needn’t trouble himself with such matters. He’s got a fresh, hand-picked set of knights to help keep Camelot safe.

Even Arthur is too busy to micromanage _ everyone’s _ free time. 

“Psst,” says the wall to Merlin’s right as he passes with a basketful of the King’s laundry.

Merlin walks a bit more slowly, briefly tuning into his surroundings where he’d previously been going about his chores on autopilot, and realizes that no one else is walking past in the hall. In fact, this hallway is infrequently used, and there is an odd mistake of architecture that’s left a little pocket of a room where several others failed to completely line up. One obscured from view, unless you know where to look.

The wall loses patience and grows a hand from nowhere, tugging him into the little mistake of a room. Merlin barely manages not to drop the basket and spill all the laundry he’s spent the last few hours taking care of on the dusty floor of this inner sanctum. As it is, there’s barely any room for it besides two full grown men, and Merlin stands with it tucked awkwardly under his arm, pressing against both of them.

“You’re not dressed,” Merlin says stupidly, only noticing because Arthur had been on him to come back before practice.

Gwaine gives a half smile. “If I were expected to show up with as many clothes as you, I can see how you might think so,” he says, looking pointedly at the basket. 

Merlin carefully sets the basket just outside the little nook, obscured enough by a column that it won’t attract too much attention even if someone comes through this infrequently-used hallway. The room doesn’t seem much bigger for it, probably because Gwaine moves forward a bit when he straightens up. 

“Hello,” Gwaine purrs into his ear, hands landing lightly on Merlin’s waist. 

“You should be careful, Arthur might start to think you’re some kind of slacker. He’ll accuse me of being a bad influence if we’re both late.” Merlin settles into him a little more comfortably, unable to resist smiling as Gwaine gently kisses him at the corner of his jaw. 

“His Highness already thinks I’m a slacker. You don’t get credit for that.”

“He’ll still take it out on me,” Merlin laments, though he doesn’t know why. He’s used to it. But he is less used to having someone’s attention all to himself. He takes in a breath when he feels a gentle tug of teeth on his ear.

“We’ll both be late, you forget.” 

Merlin sighs. “You’re a knight, it’s different.” 

Gwaine straightens up and Merlin snaps out of it, realizing too late that his words might be taken as genuine protest. But Gwaine just leans in close. “I’ll make it worth your while. And, I’ll be so late, it’ll seem you were early.”

The knight looks so earnest and handsome that Merlin doesn’t even bother to dissuade him from whatever shenanigans he has planned to draw Arthur’s ire. “Deal,” he says. 

Heat blooms through Merlin’s chest and up his spine as he suddenly finds Gwaine fully kissing him. He can’t help smiling immediately against the tickle of Gwaine’s beard, because Gwaine’s enthusiasm is infectious—even to himself, it appears, because Merlin can feel Gwaine smile back. He reaches up gently, his hands going from Merlin’s waist to cup the back of his head, insistently trying to bridge the gap formed between them through giddiness with a little more pressure. 

Merlin’s fingers twist into the fabric of his shirt gratefully, feeling his face heat when their fronts collide, even though this is nothing, not yet. Just a kiss. But oh, it’s a good kiss. Maybe Gwaine is the one who steers him towards the wall, or maybe Merlin steps towards it and Gwaine follows him, but his back collides and then somehow it feels as if they’re pressed even more snugly together.

Gwaine’s teeth nip at Merlin’s lips with a gentle sort of playfulness, but it’s far from anything chaste. Merlin turns his head, eager for something a little deeper. The taste of him, the smell, is undeniably different from Freya. But it’s a different experience, a different dynamic; he’s less worried about propriety, because those sorts of rules aren’t built for this kind of situation. But they were friends first, and that somehow makes it easier. Or maybe it’s just that he’s used to keeping secrets. Or maybe this is secret is more fun than his others tend to be, better to share.

His lips burn already from the roughness of Gwaine’s beard scratching against them, and still he can’t bring himself to pull back, even as his lungs begin to ache at this prolonged breathlessness. Merlin makes a soft noise when Gwaine shifts against him, feeling a fresh wave of sensation roll through his body, settling deep in his core. He doesn’t have oil or anything with him, wasn’t expecting this first thing in the morning. He wonders if he could spell something up without Gwaine noticing, without it seeming convenient enough to question...

Merlin’s attention must slip enough that Gwaine notices. He pulls back slightly, slowly, his lips an appealing red color and his eyes dark, though they still have their usual mischievous spark. He looks like he’s fighting the urge to dive back in, and Merlin feels a fresh prickle of vanity spread through him at the thought of how he must look. They are quite a complement to each other, he thinks, though that will probably continue to be a private enjoyment. 

“Can’t help but feel I don’t have your full attention,” Gwaine murmurs breathlessly, giving a subtle yet still too obvious glance downward. 

Merlin snorts with genuine amusement at the lewd pun. “I was just thinking, I wasn’t expecting… I didn’t bring anything...” 

Gwaine huffs out a little laugh. “Don’t worry, love, I’m used to improvising,” says Gwaine, matter-of-factly. “I’ve got everything planned out. No need to fret.” He leans in a bit more, breathing against Merlin as if waiting for him to protest again. But Merlin just nods, trusting him. 

There are teeth again, lips, sliding across his cheek, his jaw, down his neck. Gwaine is careful enough not to leave anything too visible, always careful, but there are spots that can be easily hidden if he just ties his neckerchief a little tighter, and the knight knows exactly where they are. Merlin sucks in a short gasp and breathes out a shorter moan feeling Gwaine suck brashly at his skin, feeling his teeth around the edge. 

Merlin keens into him, his cock jumping when Gwaine starts necking him, obviously noticed by the sound of a growling laugh and a hand crawling down his side. The other fists in his short hair, holding his neck open. His skin scrapes hot and raw under the attention of the knight’s mouth, mirroring the burning he feels more and more intently in his core.

“Gwaine—” Merlin gasps, imagining his neck blooming raw and ugly enough to glow well beyond what his neckerchief can cover. The thought only makes him harder, makes him gasp when Gwaine’s warm fingers slip under his shirt, moving up to lightly grasp at his skin, just making him feel something other than a kiss. But there’s a pleasant contrast when Gwaine lifts his mouth to Merlin’s ear, tickling his neck with his soft, dark waves as a momentary reprieve.

“Merlin,” Gwaine murmurs softly against his throat, acknowledging, teasing, wanting. The heaviness of his body is insistent, the weight of his thigh between Merlin’s utterly distracting. 

Merlin finds he’s still breathing hard, even though they’ve long since stopped kissing. He squirms slightly, feeling overwhelmed, but not enough. “Gwaine, please,” Merlin says. It comes out a little more desperate than he means it to, not that it matters. He wants him all the same.

Gwaine’s fingers squeeze his hip gently, even as he rolls his own forward. He groans softly, then the hand on his hip goes down to pluck at his trousers. He makes quick work of them and pulls Merlin back into a kiss, one he responds to eagerly. Just the feeling of Gwaine’s hand wrapping around his cock, warm and dry, a gentle squeeze and his thumb pressing at the tip where it’s wet, makes Merlin shiver. 

He can feel the weave of Gwaine’s shirt stretch as he pulls at it, and he feels bad, but not bad enough to stop. He only barely manages not to yell because Gwaine bites down on his tongue for him. Gwaine only stops kissing him to turn against him, politely, to spit into his own hand before he wraps it around Merlin’s cock again and start stroking him in earnest. Merlin arcs up into him, sighing and rutting against him as much as the knight’s weight on him will allow. 

With a low growl, Gwaine ducks against his neck, this time under his neckerchief, pushing it up and his shirt collar down to attack the fresh skin there on the other side. Merlin groans and gasps, already so hot and hard that he knows he won’t last long even before Gwaine’s knee dips between his legs to add another layer of pleasure. Merlin grinds against him, into him, hoping to save his clothes some wear by fisting them into that long, soft hair instead. 

Merlin gasps and groans, murmuring Gwaine’s over and over, cock aching happily from the steady friction of his hand and that burning blush spreading over his collarbone. His nipples stiffen under his clothes and he hisses when they rub against his shirt, Gwaine’s weight still steadily pinning him to the wall. He can feel Gwaine’s prick digging into his thigh, hard as steel, and his mouth waters at the thought of it inside him somehow. The simple fantasy of it makes him whine out another sound. He tries to swallow, breathes through his teeth, caught on the edge.

With a small shuffling of their limbs, Gwaine’s other hand snakes around and grabs Merlin’s arse, pulling him up and giving him even better language to shove his knee between Merlin’s legs. His cock juts into Merlin’s groin when they move against each other in time with his hand. 

“Gwaine— _ Nng!” _

Gwaine pulls back enough to watch Merlin coming apart, to grin breathless and red-faced and joyful and lovely as Merlin fights a sensation constricting in his throat, he’s so close and all he can do is stammer out half syllables and cling white-knuckled to Gwaine’s shirt.

“Merlin,” Gwaine says, soft and choked in his own right, his expression faltering with a wonderful honest vulnerability that Merlin so admires in him. Merlin’s body stiffens ashe lets out a strangled cry and comes into Gwaine’s hand, panting and gasping just a breath apart from a kiss. 

He goes a little boneless so that Gwaine has to pin him even harder against the wall to keep him from collapsing, which he does, even pulling his pants up a bit and pressing his smile into Merlin’s neck while he waits for him to recover a bit. Merlin leans against him, wishing he could sink down to the floor, maybe take Gwaine with him, and linger in this feeling for a while. But even if their schedule would permit it, the space doesn’t, so he settles for leaning against the knight and closing his eyes for a minute. 

“Merlin,” Gwaine says again, making his eyes snap open so suddenly that he realizes he must have been somewhere else for a few seconds. He jerks up straight and his surprise forces them apart a bit. 

“Sorry. I, er—” He smiles, a little embarrassed. “Sorry. Tired.” 

Gwaine smiles good-naturedly, or perhaps more self-assured than anything. He kisses him one more time, though this is softer and smoother and closing. 

“Are you not—” Merlin gestures vaguely downward, bites his lip, which feels is raw and burning, but he wouldn’t mind a bit more. Had planned on a bit more, actually. 

“Told you I’d make sure I showed up later than you did,” the knight says with a wink. 

“Oh.” Merlin feels slightly disappointed, until the bell suddenly chimes and he realizes he’s even later than he’d thought he’d be already. He groans.

“Go on, then.” Gwaine laughs, pushing him towards the awkward exit of the little hidden room. But then he stops him. “Actually, one moment.” He takes the tie at the back of Merlin’s neck and tugs it a little tighter so it covers more of his neck, then gives an approving nod. “Good enough. You might dunk your head in a bucket though.” 

Merlin puts his hand over his face self-consciously and feels it burning. “You _ could _shave.” But he doesn’t wait for an answer, because despite Gwaine’s promise, Arthur is sure to unleash on him.

He does, as expected, having struggled halfway into his practice gear by the time Merlin finds him. Wearing _ yesterday’s _shirt, which, from hearing him say it, is a crime great enough to rival sorcery. Never mind that Merlin is quite sure he’s got two that look much the same, given he’s got one in the basket and Arthur’s wearing the other, even though it’s backwards and they have to start over. 

Once Arthur has calmed down enough to only fume at him quietly, he asks Merlin what’s wrong with his face, no, besides the normal things. Merlin is forced to admit his allergy to blackberries can’t quite keep him from sampling the ones that grow out where Gaius has him collecting herbs. 

At least half an hour must pass before Gwaine appears, looking much the same as he had earlier, not the least bit prepared for practice. Which Merlin thinks is unwise, given that Arthur is holding a sword. 

“And where have _ you _ been? I swear, you’re worse than _ Merlin_,” Arthur complains loudly, walking towards them. Merlin does not miss Gwaine raising an eyebrow in his direction.

Gwaine stops in front of them, not looking even remotely repentant. Everyone else is watching, because really, no one is ever this late, and surely Gwaine must have a good reason. “Sorry Milord, I was masturbating and I lost track of the time.” 

Elyan lets out a loud snort of laughter that he only barely manages to disguise as a yell by pretending he swung his sword at a bad angle on accident. Which he must do on purpose to avoid hitting Percival, who has stopped dead in the middle of trying to avoid him. Arthur’s face is redder than Merlin’s, who looks as if he might have snuck a few more ‘blackberries’ despite there being none in the immediate vicinity. 

It takes too many seconds for Arthur to recover for his quip to seem cool, but he says it anyway after he finally manages to clear his throat. “Right then. Since you’re not suited up and you’ve _ beaten _enough things today, you can switch with Merlin and be the target.” 

Gwaine shrugs, looking far too fully satisfied with his punishment, and moves over to take the practice shield off Merlin. “Worth it, then?” he murmurs, failing to look anything other than incorrigible. 

Merlin shakes his head and smiles. “Red really is Arthur’s color.”


End file.
